Dharma
Elusive reclusive enigmatic
Radical outsider undogmatic
Dogma will be run over by karma
But for me my poetry is dharma
A poet with no axe to grind my mind
Would seek to leave all narrowness behind
I have no desire no taste no craving
For the cant nor the rant nor the raving
Of those to whom such things seem effective
Predestined to disdain the elective
They have no regard for the collective
As if since we seem a minority
We are unimportant mere you and me
In fact intact we the majority
Could really shake them up and they can see
This so they fear our very presence here
In their promised land of the hidden hand
I am a well-meaning democratic
One seen as a threat: am I then? You bet
But for me my poetry is dharma
Radical outsider undogmatic
Dogma will be run over by karma
Elusive reclusive enigmatic
+Steven Curtis Lance
Copyright MMV
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